Chapter Text
The words died on his lips as he took in Red’s unchanged expression; there was no interest, no small detail that caught Red’s attention. Already, Blue recognized his latest attempt at “Get Red to Leave Hostile Mountain” was not going to work. With acceptance, the bite of the hail became a touch sharper. The wind, which forced Blue to half-yell everything, gained a bitter edge. There was no point in getting his lump of a rival, friend— whatever they were these days— to leave.
“It would be pretty cool if you wanted to come to Alola, and, well, yeah,” Blue concluded. “I mean, a paid vacation sure sounds great, don’t you think?”
If the charms of warm beaches, a special Alolan Raichu, and indoor plumbing weren’t enough to tempt Red away, then Blue didn’t think much else stood a chance. Blue certainly could have gone for two of those three things on the list. It would have been better than wasting his time— yet again— in a ridiculous cycle he couldn’t hope to break. He was starting to feel like a delivery boy.
The appropriate amount of silence passed. Red did not bother to pretend he was humouring the offer, and Blue tried to shrug off his annoyance.
“There was no harm in asking,” he sighed. Wisps of frozen breath curled around his chin. Then, Blue turned his attention to the general direction Eevee and Pikachu had run off. “C’mon, we’re leaving!”
When there was no verbal response, Blue gave a high whistle. Unlike his command, it wasn’t distorted by the echo and wind. Soon, two figures bounded towards them. Eevee hopped into his arms, her fur coat matted with clumps of ice. Pikachu followed suit with Red, shaking off a coat of snow.
“See? Pikachu is turning into Pikablue!” Blue tried, a last-ditch effort. He flashed a winning smile at Red, dialing up the charisma again. “I’m sure he would appreciate the sunshine. And doesn’t your Pikachu like to surf? He could make buddies with those psychic surfing Raichu while you’re there.”
“Pika?”
Pikachu’s ears perked up at the mention of his name and one of his favourite moves. Red had long since gotten rid of it, but the first time Pikachu used Surf had surprised the hell out of him. (And his Rhydon.) Pikachu turned to Red for clarification. Red rolled his eyes at the bad pun, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. His posture seemed to tell Pikachu it wasn’t worth it, that this was just Blue Oak being Blue Oak.
“The next time you see me, I’ll have a wicked tan!” Blue declared with a mocking wave. “Smell ya’.”
With Eevee twined around his shoulders like a tacky scarf, Blue made the trek back down. He stopped by the cavern where Red stored his supplies (the ones Blue dragged up at the behest of his gramps and Red’s mom) to grab his backpack. Pikachu followed, weaving between his feet just to be a nuisance. The pokémon eyed Blue with suspicion that might have been justifiable when he was ten years old and had a somewhat larger ego.
Pokémon remembered the things and people that hurt their trainers. They could understand the complexities of human feelings better than they let on. Gramps told him one time that basic, animalistic logic dictated if something caused harm, you didn’t do it again. That was how you learned what to eat, who to challenge, and who to avoid. Pokémon had the capacity to learn, to forgive those who wronged them or their loved ones. Yet it was simpler to write certain things off as dangerous. Given their past rivalry, the distrust was understandable. Pikachu got the message that he and Red had gotten over their competitiveness, but that didn’t mean they had to like each other.
“What?” Blue asked. “You here to place an order with the Oak Delivery Service?”
Pikachu’s line of sight strayed to Eevee, who stuck out her tongue. Before Blue could register what was happening, Pikachu tackled Eevee off his shoulder, taking him down in the process. The contents of his backpack spilled across the cavern floor; Poké Balls rolled in all directions, several of them opening. Pidgeot appeared, searching for an opponent, and Gyarados followed with a trilling roar. His plastic case of TMs burst open, and the disks rolled in every direction.
“Do you have any idea how long I had to spend at the Game Corner trying to win some of these TMs?”
He yelled and cursed at no one specific while tidying up the mess. As Blue coiled his escape ropes, someone nudged a Poké Ball towards him. Blue looked up, to see Eevee staring at him with a poor attempt at looking guilty. The shameless, vulpine smile didn’t help her case. It was just as much Pikachu’s fault as it was hers. Blue thought some not-so-nice things about the yellow rodent and took the Poké Ball.
Blue had to bivouac— camp overnight on Mt. Silver— but the rest of the climb passed without incident. From Mt. Silver he rested in one pokémon Center to the next for the last days of travel, until he was home in Viridian.
Sluggish, Blue fiddled with his key ring for too long, searching for the right one. There were keys to the Gym he would soon be leaving, keys to innumerable rooms and filing cabinets at the lab, and finally, one for the door. Blue didn’t make it through the threshold before deciding the couch was more convenient than walking any further. He shrugged off his backpack, and it split open again. Yes, holding it together with safety pins long after it was due for retirement wasn’t the best idea. But it held sentimental value! The bag had been up and down with him on all his Mt. Silver runs.
Blue collapsed in a boneless heap on the couch, sending pillows flying. He thought nothing but Red, Red, Red, until he woke the next morning. Even then, his mind strayed to Red. No, there was… somehow there was red? Bleary, he swiped at his eyes, and attempted to make sense of what he was seeing. The curtains weren’t drawn, and he was rendered blind by the dark splotches which exploded across his vision.
A quick peek over the couch revealed Eevee was in the kitchen, waiting by her food dish. Impatient, she minced on her paws and yelped at him. Blue got up to feed her, and noticed the backpack was just in the right position to trip him up. Then, as he came to the kitchen, Blue saw the fridge was open. His pokémon were too well-trained to bother with stealing food, and nothing major appeared to be missing.
It was then that Blue tilted his head a few degrees up. On top of the fridge, something had woven together a bizarre nest of electrical cables. His phone charger and longest extension cord were just some of the victims. The final thing Blue saw was Pikachu, and the new bottle of ketchup in his clutches.
“HEY!”
The instinctive protest was out of his mouth before Blue had time to process what this meant.
Pikachu decided to use Blue as a springboard. With the neck of the bottle clutched between his teeth, Pikachu leaped from his face to the kitchen table. The sound of clawed feet, skittering across the tiled floor followed. Fresh pain slashed across Blue’s cheeks, blood welling in the shallow scratches. Pikachu weren’t known for using their claws in battle, but they were still plenty sharp. From the spiteful reaction alone, Blue knew a wild pokémon had not invited itself in while he was on Mt. Silver.
That was the Pikachu.
Red’s Pikachu.
Blue allowed himself to fantasize Red changed his mind, and for some reason broken into his place to announce why yes, they would be going to Alola together. But there was no Red in his living room, chiding the mischievous pokémon cradled in his arms. Just a pokémon sitting on its haunches beneath the coffee table. Nested between the pokémon mail and battle items, there was not a trainer’s standard number six Poké Balls.
There were seven.
Apparently, Pikachu hated being on Mt. Silver more than he hated being inside the Poké Ball.
“And you helped!” Blue accused, swinging around to face Eevee. Again, she beamed that knowing, scheming smile. They’d planned this together. Pikachu and Eevee got along just fine. Enough for her to turn traitor and help smuggle the fuzzball to Viridian. His closest partner had turned traitor. “Why would you—?!”
Red wouldn’t leave Mt. Silver for tropical climates or new pokémon.
But he would leave for Pikachu.
“Red is going to think that I stole you!” Blue wailed, dragging his hands down his stinging face. Smears of blood trickled across his palms. There was no way Pikachu would claim any less when Red broke arrived. The rodent resented him that much. Visions of classical cut-out ransom letters, demanding for Red go to Alola with him came to mind. Chasing on its heels was the idea that Red would break down his door take Pikachu, and never be seen again. Dread curled in his stomach as Blue imagined all the lost trust. It felt as though he’d finally patched things up with Red and now this had come along. “The worst part is that I practically did! Poké Ball and all!”
Pikachu, between licks of ketchup, nodded.
Blue didn’t need Red’s level of understanding to translate Pikachu’s thoughts. The pokémon’s disdain made it obvious enough.
“Not my problem.”
Pokémon Kidnapper Extraordinaire had a much less pleasant ring than Battle Tree Boss.